


broken bird

by Lint



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Spoiler Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 06:06:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14074545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lint/pseuds/Lint
Summary: “Whatever this is, whatever we have. It's yours, mine, and no one else's.”





	broken bird

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler based. Stating just to be on the safe side.

Cheryl sleeps in fits.

 

Which means Toni doesn't sleep at all.

 

As if remaining vigilant by her side, will somehow keep the night terrors from wreaking havoc upon her psyche. Right on cue, the sleeping girl's eyes snap open, her body shifting up so quickly Toni flinches away from a flailing elbow. She reaches for the cup on the nightstand, rubbing slow circles on Cheryl's back, as she presses the glass against trembling lips.

 

Cool water slides smoothly down a parched throat, as labored breathing echoes across the rim, her trembling shoulders finally calming when the cup runs dry. She looks to Toni carefully, as if to assure her presence isn't a result of some fever dream. That she isn't still locked away in that unforgiving place.

 

Toni's arm slides up and over her shoulder, as Cheryl shudders with the memory of the dream crawling back to the forefront of her mind, giving a reassuring squeeze that she is still here. That's she's not going anywhere.

 

No words of comfort come. No soft cooing in her ear. Not for lack of empathy on Toni's part, rather it is her conceding to the request that she not give any. Cheryl's eyes fall closed, aching for rest, knowing it will not come easily.

 

She allows Toni to pull her back down, points their faces to each other on the pillow, and softly runs her fingers through endless strands of amber hair. Her breathing slows, the panic finally waning, but she almost wants to cry when the press of lips against her forehead offers no comfort at all.

 

/\

 

It's a mask she's used to.

 

Armor well worn in her entire tenure here.

 

Cheryl walks through the halls with her head held high, heels clicking along the linoleum in that familiar strut, HBIC telling anyone who glances her way that she owns the place. No one is aware as to why she'd missed three days. Not that anyone outside the inner circle Vixens care that much. Nor will she give anyone reason to think it was anything but a simple sickness that kept her away.

 

Veronica rounds a corner, the eyes nearly bulging from her head at the site of the redhead, a satisfied smirk pulling on perfectly painted lips.

 

“Cheryl what are you-”

 

“Walking to class,” she cuts off the obvious end of that sentence. “What else would I be doing?”

 

Veronica joins her in stride, the click of her heels one beat off from Cheryl's.

 

“Yeah, but-”

 

“I'm fine,” Cheryl insists, keeping her eyes focused forward. “I assure you.”

 

Veronica doesn't believe her for a second.

 

“How could you be?” she asks. “After what you went through.”

 

Cheryl stops abruptly, turning to the brunette, a determined glare in her eye.

 

“What I went through is of no consequence,” she states evenly. “It happened. It's over. My mother's master plan failed. I survived.”

 

“Cheryl...”

 

“I will not talk about this another second,” Cheryl cuts her off again. “Now if you'll excuse me.”

 

She walks off, her pulse beating double time, gratefully that Veronica takes the hint and doesn't follow.

 

/\

 

Cheryl is sitting on the couch in Toni's (uncle's) living room, staring blankly at the television screen, when Toni walks through the door with a to go cup from Pop's. She drops her keys on a table, and moves to sit next to Cheryl on the couch, offering her the cup with a little smile. Cheryl's eyes close, letting herself enjoy the moment of serenity the girl's companionship brings, before taking the offered milkshake and taking a cautious sip.

 

She leans into Toni's shoulder, lips upturning at the arm that automatically goes around her own.

 

“What are you watching?”

 

Cheryl honestly doesn't know. She'd been mindlessly flipping channels while Toni stepped out, stopping on one where a white sand beach had been displayed, none too concerned about the middle aged couple with a budget of half a million dollars wishing to purchase their dream home.

 

“Nothing,” she answers. “It's stupid.”

 

Toni nods at the comment, but doesn't offer one of her own.

 

“Hey,” Toni says suddenly, lifting a hand to Cheryl's cheek. “It's okay, baby. You're safe here.”

 

Cheryl wants to ask what the hell she's talking about, when she feels the tear slide to the end of her jaw.

 

Oh. Crying. Again.

 

It happens so much she hardly even notices anymore.

 

Toni pulls her closer, letting their heads press together.

 

Cheryl keeps crying as Toni holds her, watching the couple on TV settle for their third favorite house.

 

/\

 

Josie is, quite honestly, the last person she expected to check up on her. Though she actively participated gaining Cheryl's freedom from the Sisters, they'd hardly said more to each other than “are you okay?” and “thank you” about it. But here her former bestie stands expectantly next to her locker, assuring her it's understandable if she wants a break from practicing with the Vixens.

 

“Why would I ever want to do such a thing?” Cheryl asks, her well maintained smile punctuating the point.

 

Josie looks around the locker room for any stragglers that could overhear.

 

“Because,” she says softly. “Of the trauma?”

 

Cheryl's hands clench automatically, as her eyes fall closed. Flashes of needles the size of her fingers, Sister Warthouse's sinister smile, dance on the back of her eyelids. One quick breath and her eyes pop open again, giving Josie another well rehearsed smile.

 

“No trauma to speak of,” she assures.

 

Josie gives a pointed look.

 

“Girl,” she sighs. “If that were true, you wouldn't look like you're walking on eggshells every second of the day.”

 

Cheryl's attention quickly goes back to the contents of her locker. Not too long ago she would have answered Josie, if anyone asked who she considered to be her closest friend. Not that they were particularly close, now that she reflects on it. Even when she got pretty possessive at the end there, wanting the songstress all to herself, while somehow simultaneously keeping her at arms length in protection against her family.

 

It's a confrontation they've never had. About Cheryl's feelings for her. The unsavory things she'd done in an attempt to bring them together. Josie didn't call her on any of it, still hasn't, but took a step back just the same. Josie is waiting for her to say something else, but Cheryl doesn't know how to proceed, knowing she can trust her yet not wanting to lay a burden on someone who is not really there for her any longer.

 

“Toni seems nice,” Josie says suddenly.

 

Cheryl's stomach twists with the sincerity of the words. Heart tightening inside her chest. Despite their falling out, a part of Josie still wants her to be happy. She keeps the tears from falling by sheer force of will. She cannot allow herself to fall apart in public. Even if Josie is the only person who would witness it.

 

“Practice starts in one minute,” she states firmly. “Go and get the girls ready. I'll follow in two shakes of a lamb's tail.”

 

For a moment, Cheryl doesn't think she's going to comply, and starts to panic because the tears are threatening to bubble over. Thankfully Josie turns to leave without another word, and Cheryl bites her tongue so hard to keep from screaming that she tastes blood.

 

/\

 

Toni holds her hand so easily, as they walk along the river, listening as Cheryl carries on about every happy memory she's ever linked to this place. Most of her stories are about Jason. When they were just toddlers playing hide seek through the trees. Moving up to boat rides as they got older. Endless picnics on fresh springs days, just the two of them, close as their twin bond would allow.

 

From the corner of her eye, she can see the goofy smile on Toni's face, and feels secure in the knowledge that she is not being judged in any way. For once in her life someone is getting to know her, the real her, and the acceptance is such she honestly doesn't know how to comprehend it.

 

Something inside her mind itches at the happiness she feels. Head twitching with a sudden harsh sensation. Sister Warthouse's voice in her ear, calling her a tramp. How dare she equate these feelings with love? How dare a sinner like her think she is allowed such things?

 

Cheryl drops Toni's hand so quickly, the girl pitches forward with the shift in balance, looking back to her in concern.

 

“Don't,” Cheryl spits through gnashed teeth. “Touch me.”

 

Toni's eyes narrow, but she doesn't respond to that.

 

“What's wrong?” she asks instead. “Are you having some kind of flashback? Is it that nun again? That place?”

 

Cheryl regards her coldly.

 

“What do you care, Serpent slut?” she seethes. “That's what your kind does, isn't it? Entangle your foul tendrils onto unsuspecting-”

 

“My kind?” Toni interrupts, shoulders squaring. “Is your kind.”

 

Cheryl's lip curls.

 

“As if I could ever equate myself with the likes of you.”

 

Toni isn't buying it, though her body is taut and ready to fight, the expression on her face is nothing but concern.

 

“Listen to yourself. What are you even saying?”

 

Cheryl feels a sudden scratch to the itch, Sister Warthouse's voice falling silent. She blinks rapidly as if her vision had blurred, but is now clearing. Realization of what just occurred.

 

“I-I'm sorry,” she whispers frantically. “I don't... I don't know where that came from.”

 

Toni's stance is still defensive.

 

“Don't be afraid of me,” Cheryl asks meekly. “Please?”

 

Toni relaxes instantly, moving toward her again, offering an embrace which Cheryl quickly melts into.

 

“I'm not,” she assures. “I promise.”

 

Cheryl breaks down against her, though no tears will come, her body having exhausted its supply.

 

“Something is terribly wrong,” she confesses. “Whatever they did to me... It's like they don't want me to think that I... That I can have you.”

 

Toni's chin rests easily atop her shoulder.

 

“That's not their call,” she asserts. “Whatever this is, whatever we have. It's yours, mine, and no one else's.”

 

“Do you really believe that?”

 

“We accept the love we think we deserve.”

 

Cheryl squeezes her tight.

 

“Is that a quote?”

 

Toni chuckles softly.

 

“Yeah,” she admits. “But don't hold it against me.”

 

/\

 

Cheryl's eyes snap open, but it takes to moment to realize she isn't screaming, that she feels no need to pop upright and catch her breath. The dream still resonates in the back of her mind, Sister Warthouse and her giant needle, but the details are fading quickly.

 

The moon is visible outside the window, stray beams of light cascade across the bed, as she smiles against Toni's arm held protectively across her waist. She is so tired of being traumatized. Subjugated or ignored. So tired she can't bring herself to close her eyes again.

 

Somehow she manages to pull herself from Toni's embrace, pausing to shift and press the softest of kisses against the slumbering girl's temple, before slinking out of the bed without waking her. Making way toward the bathroom, she's grateful that Toni's uncle has been gone on some construction job, unable to imagine staying here the past week if he'd been present.

 

The reflection in the mirror causes her to cringe, eyes sunken yet puffy, exhaustion felt deep into bone.

 

Remember who you are, Cheryl Bombshell. Stronger than you think. Stronger than anyone cares to know. Not just some broken bird for your (almost) girlfriend to mend. You deserve love. Happiness. To live your life any which way you see fit.

 

“No more tears,” she whispers softly. “No more pain. No more horror.”

 

Gasping with the shock of cold water splashed upon her face, she takes a breath and places her hand on the mirror, willing herself to believe it.

 

 

 


End file.
